


Good, Bad or Ugly?

by Da_Funked



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Actually Aiming To Be A Better Person Hanzo, M/M, Unattractive McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Da_Funked/pseuds/Da_Funked
Summary: McCree has never been considered conventionally attractive. So when Hanzo Shimada of all people starts making passes at him?McCree waits for the punchline.





	Good, Bad or Ugly?

**Author's Note:**

> ((Yooo! So I recently took a short trip and managed to write this on the drive (I really need to update my other two stories, jfc lol). This is for Muchymozzarella!!!! It was derived from this prompt here: http://muchymozzarella.tumblr.com/post/175645073164/  
>  I aimed to make Hanzo less of an 'I have a stick up my ass' character bc that trend is hella heavy rn, so hopefully it worked out fine lmao. Hope you enjoy!

"….. Can I help you?" 

Jesse was currently looking away from the data pad that he was holding, eyes leaving the soft glow to make eye contact with the man across the table. 

Hanzo wasn't even subtle in his staring, gaze meeting McCree's lazily as he raised an eyebrow. "You say it with such disinterest," He accused, earning an eyeroll in response. 

"Not disinterest, more like woe. Me earnin' stares usually ends in a bar fight, a fist fight, a police chase, or…… Hell, an uncomfortable meal at best." Sitting up a little straighter, McCree let his data pads screen go dark as he settled in for what was probably about to be an awkward conversation. 

Shimada Hanzo had joined Overwatch a mere two months ago. His first meeting with Jesse had been short and moderately run of the mill in the life of the outlaw; A quick updown, a scrunched nose, a dismissal. Jesse had gotten into the habit giving people an out when they didn't hide their disinterest in his appearance, and for Hanzo he allotted the (probably) valid point that he was just antsy about being on the same base as Genji again. McCree wasn't an important person in his list of priorities, and he wasn't an important person in McCree's outside of 'Make sure he doesn't hurt Genji again, and if he does, rip him limb from limb'. 

Though after going through Blackwatch with the man and seeing him in action, Jesse had the funny feeling the cyborg could handle himself just fine. 

It became apparent all too soon that Hanzo meant no harm. He went out of his way to greet his brother in the morning, or make tea and leave it out for him. Zenyatta had tried to strike up a conversation with him once or twice, and it seemed as if Hanzo was genuinely aiming to be cordial, even if it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he wanted to leave immediately. At very least, he _tried_ to be polite, which was speculated by Hana as 'a total act' and Lena as 'the actions of a hopeful man'. Sure, the arguments between him and Genji were common, but seeing as McCree understood Japanese, he realized they were always about small things. A video game level they never beat as kids and blamed the other for, or how Genji needed to oil his joints more otherwise his creaking would give away any position or higher ground. 

None of it was McCree's business, and he assumed none of it ever would be. 

The first time he and Hanzo truly spoke to one another had been about a week after he had joined and had interrupted McCree while he was making his morning coffee. 6 AM was the time of mussed hair, an old worn out robe that he'd perfected tying blindly, and leaning heavily on the counter as their ancient coffee pot rattled to life. Hanzo had come in (looking infuriatingly perfect, McCree noticed with quelled disdain) and asked to borrow McCree's data pad to order something offline seeing as Winston hadn't given him one yet. 

Jesse tried not to take satisfaction in the look of pleasant surprise he'd earned when the cowboy had just handed it over without any preamble. Pulling down two mugs when the coffee was finished brewing and pouring them masterfully, Jesse slid one over to Hanzo, who had moved to lean on the counter and was typing like his life depended on it. When he finally looked away just to see the cup of warm coffee waiting and McCree quietly sipping at his own, his eyes narrowed minutely, watching the sharpshooter for a moment before beginning to sip at the offered drink.

Since then, they'd talk periodically. Never long, and never about much outside of missions and whatnot, but it added up enough that Jesse could maybe call them friends. 

In all honesty? Hanzo was a hell of an intimidating person to try to even be friends with. 

Take the fact that he could shoot the wings off a fly at a hundred meters away with an _arrow_ , the man looked like he was chiseled from marble. Strong jaw, sharp eyes, perfectly cut hair and beard. Hearing that they were similar in age was like a sucker punch to the jaw, considering how damn handsome he was and how Jesse was…

Well. 

'Ugly' was a common word that didn't fit, one that he'd heard most of his life. At least not according to Jesse's standards, though every passing day was more and more of a reminder that his standards may be off base by a league or five compared to the public. 

While he'd been ribbed in school over it from kindergarten, his stepdad had told him he looked like a pug when he was 12, and that statement had never quite stopped stinging possibly due to its slight accuracy. Especially as a kid, he'd been short, pudgier, with a nose that never stuck out far enough and eyes that weren't that big compared to his face. He knew he wasn't Hollywood attractive, and that wasn't an issue until he was hitting puberty, when he got taller and broader and his features stayed the exact same and didn't age like a fine wine into something conventionally handsome like it had with all of the other boys his age. Instead, his face stayed just as pressed and odd as it always had been, and more and more Jesse found himself pulling his hat down just a little lower any time someone looked in his direction to avoid confrontation. 

He wasn't ugly, damn it. He just wasn't handsome the way some others were, and that made existing seem like its own crime.

When he joined Deadlock, he was made fun of exactly once. After shooting the heckler in the foot as he walked past, Jesse was left be, though that was mostly because he didn't have much left to lose as it was. His Ma was gone, and her husband wasn't a father. Deadlock was the only people he really could be around anymore, and at the age of 16 he was ready to throw hands at anyone who dared comment on his face. He was broad shouldered and new to being tall, meaning he'd pick fights with anyone if they gave him a wrong sideways glance. 

When Gabriel picked him up from the midst of a bloodbath, he offered the choice of jail or work. He'd stared death or incarceration down before, but after getting shot in the shoulder and barely being patched up before he was dragged into questioning, he was shaking like a leaf. 

McCree blamed blood loss to this day. 

He tried insisting that he didn't know English, but that just got the Blackwatch Commander to double down harder in Spanish, biting at him about being a child in a warzone and too good of a shot for his age, meaning he either needed to be put away or put to better use. 

Blackwatch worked. The people there weren't the kind to judge, each having their own baggage and many so wartorn they had no place to speak in the way of appearances. Hell, it was part of the reason Genji got on with him so well at the beginning; the two of them picked fun at the other, but never about the obvious. Not McCree's beady eyes or Genji's missing right ear or metal jaw. More how Genji couldn't pronounce the word 'succulent', or that McCree snorted when he laughed too hard and the sound put an engine to shame. 

After everything fell apart and he was left back to the wiles of the world, McCree had to get used to being around assholes all over again. Gabriel was a hardass, but he'd insult laziness, or work ethic. Things you could control and just didn't. 

Getting adjusted to someone openly insulting him in a bar to him when he's just trying to enjoy some true Southern Comfort was the cause of more than a few tussles, to put it lightly. 

Most commonly? It came from people who looked like Hanzo. A little too perfect, which made the pinning gaze he was under enough to get his skin crawling. 

The guy seemed fine, but McCree wasn't above jumping to conclusions on what Hanzo thought of him in that sense. 

"How can making eye contact lead to a fight without a confrontation? I am merely enjoying my drink." Picking up the 'Worlds Best 21 Year Old' mug that he was currently sipping at, Hanzo let his eyes close as he took a long pull from his drink. 

Even with his hair down and beard untrimmed that morning, he was pretty enough that McCree leaned back just to admire it for a second. 

Though the second his eyes were open again, the only sight he caught was Jesse looking back at his data pad. "What's eatin' at you?" 

"Do you always assume I must have a problem if I am aiming to strike up a conversation outside of a mission?" 

"Usually the main reason people talk to me. That and gettin' things off the top shelf for 'em." Sipping at his own mug of coffee, his gaze flicked back. "You really just tryin' to talk?" 

"I did not realize it was a crime." Though he said it with a serious tone, Jesse could pick up on the amusement in the crinkling of his eyes, the look so subtle he may have been making it up. "Genji told me some….. Interesting stories. It made me more curious about you outside of one of us pointing at an enemy and nodding."

That was true. The two of them chatted, yeah, but more often than not they were sent out together and their communication was non-verbal. That, and both of them were much more brunt during a mission. McCree was true to how Gabriel raised him and barked commands, and Hanzo would speak unless it was criticism.

Groaning, Jesse leaned back, the data pad meeting the tabletop with a clatter. "What the hell did he big fish the shit outta this time?" 

"I was just curious to see if I was actually sharing a base with the same man that joined a 4 person quartet to break into a human trafficking ring." Two dark brows raised, and McCree broke eye contact as the corner of his mouth twitched up at the forgotten memory. 

"…… Look-"

"Astounding." Hanzo said the word with genuine awe, expression priceless. "I was sure he was lying." Shoulders lax, the archer leaned his forearms on the table, seeming to look at McCree with unadulterated interest. "I am curious of the logistics. I never thought two such things could have any correlation, and yet-"

"Alright, hol' up, how much did he tell you on it?" 

Looking up in thought, Hanzo's head tipped back and forth minutely. For being such a stoic person out in the public, Hanzo could be quite expressive. This, Jesse was learning slowly, but at moments like this it felt some low key form of intimate, which was information that he didn't know how to either process or place. His reverie was broken almost immediately when he realized Hanzo was talking again, forcing him to tune in. "-Wasn't for a mission. You heard of it happening and found that the housing location of the victims was also where many local shows were hosted as a front, the trades itself happening underground and the crowd working as a perfect cover for buyers to come and go as they pleased. So, you joined a group under the guise of performing, and strong armed your way through the building until Commander Reyes had to send in backup while you were holed up in a basement with a six shooter and a standard issue pistol."

"……. Huh." Scratching at his beard, Jesse was surprised to find that those details matched his own memory well. Usually Genji had a knack of exaggerating stories. "Didn't think he'd get it that accurate, but-"

"He also said that you, and I quote, 'sang the way honeysuckle smells and won over the crowd before pulling out your gun and playing cowboy'," Hanzo completed it with air quotes.

"Goddamn it I hate him so much," McCree laughed, sitting up again and trying not to focus on how Hanzo's mouth was pulled into a soft smile, "No, I _barely_ sang, first off. Second off, that's an ongoing joke between the two of us, because Genji sounds like a can opener goin' to town on a piece of sheet metal when he tries to sing. Knew he'd lie on somethin' in there." 

"Oh, I don't know about that." Waving his hand, Hanzo sat up a little bit as he picked his own mug up and offered a shrug. "You have a nice voice, it would make sense you could hold a tune well." Hanzo sipped at his drink and McCree took a moment to take stock of what was just said because…. That sounded like a compliment. Did they know each other well enough to dish out compliments? Was there a punchline that he was missing? Hanzo lowered his mug, and Jesse snapped to attention. "If nothing else, it was an interesting insight on the man in the cowman garb." 

"Technical term is 'cowboy' but I appreciate the upgrade." Huh. No other joke followed. His confusion must have showed, seeing as Hanzo paused before continuing. 

"I apologize, I did not realize there was such a distinction," He said in reference to the cowboy/cowman situation, and Jesse had to assure that no, there wasn't, he was just still waking up and spacing out. 

It was no big deal. 

-

"Christ Almighty! McCree-" Tracer's leg jerked a little as she clamped a hand over her mouth, looking around the warehouse they were in in case more danger was lurking nearby. 

What was supposed to be a simple survallience mission had turned into the reckoning of a lifetime, if the body count wracked up spoke for anything. They'd been trying to gather intel in Dorado, the team consisting of Tracer, McCree, Hanzo and Mei. McCree argued that they needed some form of support, but there was an earthquake that had happened in South America that was devastating, and Zenyatta, Angela, Ana and Lucio had already been sent for relief efforts, under the protection of the Red Cross seeing as Overwatch was 'disbanded'. 

Bridgette offered, but her armor was in need of some recalibration, and it was assumed it was a mere day long mission. Athena had picked up on hacking signatures around the city comparable to those caused by the infamous Sombra, and their only job had been to peek around the area and make sure that the omnic population that had lasted in Dorado wasn't in immediate danger seeing as some of the areas affected were known omnic charging buildings. Due to this possibility, Genji was barred from the mission as well, leaving them down to even less backup than they'd needed. 

After landing in Dorado, they had made it a full twenty minutes before Los Muertos caught wind of them being there (this solidified the assumption of Sombras influence tenfold), and it was game on. 

It had been Mei's idea to lead it out of town, which had worked. They had just enough time saved from a well paced ice wall to duck into an abandoned car manufacturing plant, and from then on Hanzo's sonic arrows were becoming a saving grace. 

Hanzo took a bullet to his left calf, the prosthetic now making an obnoxious squeak and forcing him to stay still in the top rafters so as not to give away his location. 

Mei had two incidents, one being a punch that struck her dizzy and a shard of ice keeping her from a bullet to the head, while the second time she took a hit to the shoulder, blood looking stark on her usual white jacket. 

Tracer and McCree had been working as a tag team, gang members being distracted by a flash of blue and  
receiving a flashbang and lead to the face for their troubles. 

It had been going fine before something clattered and got looks from both McCree and Tracer, eyes landing on a grenade that had been chucked in between the two of them. McCree had moved on instinct, rolling, scooping it up and lobbing it with his metal arm away from their group, the small explosive going off a mere two seconds later and sending shrapnel into McCree's metal arm and chestplate and into Tracer's right leg. 

Silence had fallen after one more arrow struck from right over McCree's shoulder, taking out a member with a glowing green skull tattooed over his face, visible in the dim light as he moved sluggishly for a gun. A glance back, and he watched Hanzo hobble over, Mei following behind looking worse for wear. 

"That was…. Unpleasant." Looking around for a moment, Hanzo lifted his bow and shot two arrows at either main entrance, though they both came up as uninhabited. "Though it seems as if the worst is over."

Jesse crouched down to hold Tracer's leg still, earning a curse and her subsequent silence. Frowning a little, he moved to dig around on his beltloop, finding what he was looking for and pulling two of the item out. 

They were Angie's idea, a little shot of the same biotic mumbo jumbo she used to heal them with her staff. He'd asked Morrison if he could borrow a few biotic fields for the mission, but they were currently waiting on Winston to make more, leaving them with this as a minor backup since most healing items had been taken to the disaster site in South America for the civilians.

It wasn't much, but it was better than the nothing they'd been sent with. 

Two yellow filled syringes, looking similar to Epi-Pens. There were more health items on the ship, but that was at least a few miles of a walk, and bleeding wounds were a danger in this line of work. "Can't have you unable to walk," McCree insisted, uncapping it and jamming it into Lena's thigh. He earned a sharp bark of pain in return, but after a few moments the sound of clattering rang through the abandoned area as the shrapnel was pushed from her skin, falling to the ground and sounding as delicate as falling change. Looking over at Mei, he offered up the second one, motioning at her shoulder. "C'mon. It sucks, butta bullet hole's worse." 

After the syringe was out of his hand, McCree looked up at the archer while he slowly moved Lena's foot back and forth, trying to get proper bloodflow again. "You look right as rain, minus the leg. Still in one piece?" 

Looking down, Hanzo tried to move his foot, the prosthetic making a pitiful sound before he shook his head. "More or less." Looking at McCree's metal arm, he noticed he didn't seem to be uncurling his ring or pinky finger. ""Are you?" 

"Me?" Scoffing, McCree offered a crooked grin, "Peachy keen, never better. 'S long as you're okay, I think we can call this mission a success." From off to Hanzo's left, Mei made a disgruntled noise, the syringe falling to the ground. 

"That is archaic!" She insisted, rubbing at her thigh while her other hand went to cover her shoulder. Otherwise, she was looking more pale than usual, though she tried to joke through it. "I'm not used to bullets or needles. I think I was spoiled just being a scientist." 

Tracer slowly moved to stand up, McCree offering his good hand before he moved to check on their resident climate expert. A few steps, and she wobbled, which he shook his head at. Hunched over at an awkward position to match up their heights, McCree let himself be used as a crutch as the four began to exit the building, beginning the long walk. 

Hanzo followed behind, watching with fascination as McCree put his back at risk so Mei could comfortably stand. 

Hm. 

Tracer raced ahead, getting everything started up and even going as far as to bring the ship to them in the final stretch. It was a small carrier ship, not as fancy as the other large ones they used for transporting a whole team, meaning much easier to maneuver in the building packed city of Dorado. Overall, between warehouse to seats, it was around a 45 minute venture. When they were finally back in the air and Mei and Tracer had both gotten some sugary food to help with their blood pressures, McCree went to dig in the small first aid kit on the wall.

All he pulled out was what looked like a large flat bandage, and Hanzo watched with a raised eyebrow from the other side of the small carrier. 

First, McCree removed his serape, before he went to work on ridding himself of his chest plate. It was only when he was left in a tan undershirt that Hanzo could see the bloom of red previously hidden by the massive piece of metal. He moved to stand, but McCree was already working on reaching under his shirt to cover up the injury, the pad being pressed down to stop the bleeding as McCree watched to make sure the girls weren't paying attention to him.

A stray shard of shrapnel was probably the answer for the injury, and it wasn't life threatening, but the fact that he'd avoided telling anyone for the sake of their collective sanity got Hanzo's chest feeling odd. 

When he took a greater glance and caught Hanzo's gaze, his expression turned a bit sheepish as he shrugged. A shrug. The man walked three miles hunched over with shrapnel buried in his chest after using their only health items on the other members of his team, and all he offered was a shrug. 

When he sat back down, leaving the chest plate off but staying wrapped in his serape, Hanzo spoke quietly. "You continue to surprise me." A pause. "That was incredibly stupid of you." 

Bristling, Jesse's sheepish expression turned defiant. "Now hold on a second-" 

"Though I find your chivalry..... admirable. I wish you had made a point to tell us, but after such a close call I understand your reasoning." Chancing a look over at Mei and Lena in the cockpit, he looked back, mouth pulling in the corner. When he looked back at Jesse, there was an unreadable expression on his features, and it made McCree nervous before- "Though you continue to prove your strength. Not just any man could handle shrapnel to the chest and assist his team to safety."

His face warmed at the sincerity in Hanzo's voice before he watched it melt away again, turning to polite but feigned interest as Mei made her way back to where they were sitting. 

The conversation ended then, but McCree's blush and confusion stayed long after. 

-

"This is something I am positive you cannot beat me at." 

"Ooooh, darlin, where I come from them's fightin' words." 

Mouth pressing flat, Hanzo held McCree's gaze for a total of five seconds before adding, "You honestly wish to make this a challenge?" 

"If you're gonna insult a man's honor, then hell yeah I will." Gesturing to the pool table, McCree only grinned wider. "Be my guest." 

"Pool is simple geometry," Hanzo scoffed, moving to pick up one of the pool cues and grabbing the small blue square of chalk next to it. "While you may have played in your youth, we have been housed on the same base for six months. I have not seen you play once since then."

"It's been a while, maybe," Jesse shrugged while scratching at his beard, his casual look of a flannel and jeans stark compared to his usual getup. The hat stayed, which he insisted for a reason Hanzo didn't get, but it stayed right in place as he leaned his arm on the edge of the table. 

The two of them were currently in the town ten miles from base. It was a celebration of Hanzo having joined six months ago, aka a reason to drink, and the ones who were still left were Hanzo, McCree, Lucio and Genji up at the bar, and a few rare patrons. Final call was in an hour, and McCree sipped at his golden colored beer while Hanzo drank water or shots intermittently. 

McCree pointedly ignored how attractive he found that. 

The pool table had caught their attention as they had chatted. Ever since the Dorado mission, Hanzo seemed more keen on talking to him at any point, which McCree didn't really get. Nothing particularly special had happened, and yet somehow, he found that the archer went out of his way to seek him out on the regular.

And the compliments. 

Compliments were a rare thing for Jesse to hear, but Hanzo had not stopped giving them out since then. Whether it be something small, like his aim, or something large, like his laugh. Hanzo said he had an enjoyable laugh. The ex-heir to the largest yakuza ring in Japan thought he had a nice laugh. What the hell did that even _mean_?

Yet Jesse had never been one to look a gifthorse in the mouth. If Hanzo wanted to spend time with him, he would do so gladly, because the man was a genuine riot half the time, the other half of the time being a good conversationalist. It was so odd, watching him interact with other teammates with a polite nod only to turn around twenty seconds later and dare McCree to take a full shot of vanilla extract with the same blank expression.

(He did. It lent to some incredibly sudden vomiting, and by the end of it, Hanzo had tears in his eyes from laughing at his 'unmitigated gall, you ridiculous cowboy'. Worth it.)

Now, as they both got ready, a stranger came to join. He looked fairly drunk, if the droop of his eyes was anything to go by, but his smile was friendly. Hanzo's own smirk died down, but McCree didn't seem too affected. "Lookin' for a third?" The man offered, accented English quiet in the loud bar. 

Glancing at Hanzo, McCree received the smallest nod he had ever seen, which earned a larger nod from himself. "Sure, stranger. Name's Jess, that there's Han." 

"Jess, Han," the man greeted, shaking their hands, "I'm Drake, nice to meet you."

Now that there was an innocent bystander involved, the war between Hanzo and McCree went underground. 

Was it a sight. 

McCree broke, pocketing a solid and leaving Hanzo with stripes. Drake insisted he wasn't good, so he'd team up with the 'loser' depending on how well each of them played. 

McCree missed his second shot, and Hanzo scoffed at the easy play being fouled. "I thought you were a master?" He questioned, sinking a stripped ball while making eye contact with Jesse, tone teasing. 

The words, tone and rueful expression got McCree wanting to pull at his shirt collar, suddenly feeling warm. Definitely the beers fault. 

Hanzo hit three more balls into the correctly called pockets before finally missing a trick shot, sighing as he did so. This got a low whistle from Drake, who looked over at McCree again. "You wanna go again cowboy, or should I?" 

"Be my guest," McCree assured, leaning on his pool cue casually and watching Drake absolutely butcher the next shot. "Nice job."

"Yo, Eastwood!" The call from the bar got McCree looking up, noticing Lucio and watching him point behind the bartender at the array of alcohol. "Need more?"

"Better not," He said, waving his hand dismissively as he let his gaze drift back to Hanzo. The man was shifting to ready up another shot, and he already felt warm in the face and chest. He didn't need another drink just yet. 

The man gave a chuckle over the nickname when he heard it, probably still laughing from his failed shot before he seemed to come up with a joke as his face lit up. "Hey! We match that Eastwood movie."

Immediately, Jesse's expression went flat, which made Hanzo bristled from the reaction. He didn't understand which movie was in question, seeing as he'd never been allowed to watch westerns, but watching the good humor seep from the happy go lucky cowman was unsettling. 

Was there a common Clint Eastwood film he'd missed out on title wise? Because judging by McCree's miffed expression, whatever joke was following he had probably heard it before. 

Drake pointed at Hanzo, who was lining up his shot while he continued to look between Mcree and the man speaking. "The Good," he said in reference to the archer, "The Bad," he put his hand over his chest to bring light to his own terrible play. And then, while Hanzo was pulling his pool cue back to shoot, Drake pointed at McCree with a chuckle, "And The Ugly." Hanzo struck and totally missed the shot as his gaze snapped up, watching McCree's jaw set as their drunk pool buddy laughed. "We've got the full crew!"

"Never heard that one before," Jesse said in a flat tone, looking over at the man who was suddenly seeming to sense he hit a sore spot. Guys ragged on each other often at bars, but that damn joke was overused in his life considering his usual outfits. Expression setting into vague annoyance, Jesse moved to the other side of the table, leaning over and lining up a shot. 

"Let's get something straight 'fore you disrespect one of greatest movies in history;" Shooting, he pocketed the ball he had his eye on, the crack of the white ball meeting it loud even over the music. Two down. A slight shift after the ball rolled almost immediately back to where it had started, McCree shot again, sinking the third ball with seemingly no trouble. "I ain't good," he started, taking two steps and lining up another shot. Taking it, he barely let the white ball stop before he was trying to line up another shot, four solid balls pocketed. "I ain't _bad_ ," he hit the white ball so hard it bounced back after hitting the solid yellow ball, ricocheting into the green and pocketing them both. 

Five, and six, clinking down into the pool table and disappearing from sight. 

Hanzo and Drake both watched in rapt fascination, Drake focusing on the table and Hanzo focusing on the frustrated set of McCrees brow. "But I sure as _hell_ ain't ugly," McCree promised before the pool cue shot forward, cracking the white ball straight into the red ball near the center of the table. It bounced off the sides for a solid five seconds rapidly before ever so slowly rolling and dropping into the pocket McCree was standing near. Ball seven sank as Hanzo had the realization that McCree may have missed his first shot on purpose to make the game more interesting. 

Jesse dropped his pool cue against Drake's shoulder, the man scrambling not to let it fall as McCree tipped his hat down in front of his face, walking past him. "Left you the 8 ball. Think you can manage?"

He walked towards the bar with a determined stroll, and Hanzo felt exactly how dry his mouth was as he watched McCree lift a hand to order another round. 

Simple geometry.

Drake missed the 8 ball, and Hanzo grabbed it and shoved it into the corner pocket as he walked to the bar feeling thirsty for something more than another shot.

McCree won. 

-

"I can't actually believe this." 

Genji looked carefully balanced between disbelief and total glee as he talked to his brother. Said brother had sat with McCree the night prior in silence, trying and failing to strike up any conversation for a mere ten minutes before the cowboy finally left the bar. 

This was also the same brother nursing an Alka-Seltzer water, dark hair looking closer to a shaggy mane while his bloodshot eyes remained squinted to combat the morning light. They were in the main common room, the soft couch being the perfect place for him to remain halfway curled up as Genji sat on the opposite arm and looked infuriatingly happy. 

Though it wasn't over his brother's hangover.

"McCree? Really?" Leaning his chin on his fist, scarred lips pulled into a brilliant grin as that same teasing shithead tone from when they were children came out. " _McCree_?"

"You are making this bigger than it is," Hanzo chided, rubbing a hand over his face as his hangover caused his stomach and head to throb. While he was drunk, he may or may not have admitted how overly attractive he found that whole pool fiasco, and Genji had been up since 5 AM waiting to confront him about it. "It is not as if it would lead to anything as it was."

That earned a surprised expression, the younger of the two tipping his head. "Why would you think that?" 

As if speaking of him summoned him, both men turned to look at the door to the rec room slid open, revealing McCree with his hair in a very messy bun and his eyes almost closed from exhaustion. He was wrapped in his serape with no shirt and clad in a pair of boxers that had the Mexican flag printed on it, his coffee mug lofted almost next to his face. The man slowly sipped at it as he shuffled in, before stopping when he realized people were on the couch he was aiming to sprawl on to more than likely begin nursing his own hangover. "Oh." Forcing himself to open his eyes a little more, he lifted his hand to tip a hat that wasn't there in a polite greeting. "Mornin' Shimadas."

Looking at McCree, then looking at Hanzo, Genji's mouth curled into a grin that was much more mischievous than it had any right to be as he turned to speak to his brother In their native tongue. " _This is the premium look for him, trust me. If you truly do find him so enticing, you must get used to this; he never can find pants after being drunk, and has phantom limb syndrome with his hat._ "

From the corner of his eye, Genji watched McCree open his mouth to respond, but Hanzo beat him to the punch. Much to Genji's delight, he also spoke in Japanese, the elder sipping at his water as he finally looked away from the cowboy. " _I personally find it endearing, but it would be overzealous of me to assume any attraction is mutual in any case._ "

Genji and McCree looked at each other for a moment before Jesse just slowly narrowed his eyes, shuffling over to sit in the comfortable plushy chair near the couch. Sipping at his coffee, he let his eyes close, leaning back as if to relax while Hanzo and Genji continued. " _I don't know brother. He doesn't seem like your type._ "

Scoffing, Hanzo closed his own eyes as his head gave a particularly harsh throb. " _I dismissed him at first, which was foolish of me_." The casualness of which he spoke was something that passed between them easily; Japanese was not as common as it once was, and outside of the actual country of Japan, they were rarely eavesdropped on by ears that understood.

" _Really?_ " Looking between both men while he had the chance to do so unwatched, Genji could see exactly how 'relaxed' McCree was, which was actually as wound as piano wire, while his brother remained oblivious. " _When did you change your mind?_ "

" _I did not simply change my mind. I dismissed him too easily, a flaw of mine that has existed since we were children. I assumed that in par with his ridiculous outfit, he was not worth further discussion after I caught sight of him. He changed my mind himself._ "

" _Careful, brother, that was almost sweet!_ " Reaching out, Genji hit Hanzo's knee, his sibling going through the trouble of opening his eyes just to glare as Genji's smile only grew. " _Next you will be writing poetry of how his winning smile won your favor._ "

" _His smile is one factor, you cretin. Looks are not everything, though his taste in alcohol is abhorrent._ " Another pause as he drank his fizzy water, and Hanzo looked over at McCree's closed eyes, voice quiet, " _I enjoy his company. He was the least judgmental of my arrival, when he should have been one of the most._ " This earned him looking away in shame, though he bypassed the darker subject in lieu of continuing. " _He's a good man who's done bad things and is making up for them, which I wish to do myself. He is charming in many ways, and relaxing to listen to. Selfless, as well. Another example I aim to copy, though following the steps of a man who wears spurs was not something I ever thought for myself._

" _He also hustles pool, which for a reason I can not seem to understand for the life of myself is one of the most enticing acts I have seen in my life, outside of him playing guitar. He is a man of many talents._ "

Silence fell as Hanzo sighed, taking another sip before McCree's deep baritone resonated in the room in heavily accented Japanese. " _I'm also quad-lingual, Han._ "

The elder brother promptly snorted seltzer water through his nose, while Genji nearly fell off the couch from howling with laughter. When Hanzo shot forward to grab at him, seltzer water meeting the ground, Genji bound backward, zipping from the room with a holler that made both of the hungover people in the room wince in unison. 

Daring to look up at McCree, Hanzo seemed, for once, completely out of his depth. Hair wild and face red, he knew he looked as ridiculous as he had just sounded. 

Six months of being back around his brother and the barriers he had spent years building were now visibly shattered all the way around him. 

He fell for another infamous prank of Shimada Genji, and he would kill the man a second time for this. 

McCree was still sitting back with his coffee near his chest, though he didn't look mad. Quite the opposite; His mouth was curled into an honest grin, amusement evident. When he sat up with a groan, his eyes slowly opened, though closed a little more as the light in the room became too much as he looked at Hanzo.

"You-" Inhaling deeply, Hanzo's brow set in an annoyed expression, "Did not tell me you spoke any other languages." 

"Mandarin, Japanese, Spanish an' English. Reyes insisted, but I failed Italian hard. Though I'm workin' on sign language too, so maybe someday." Shrugging, McCree set his drink to the side, his serape blanket looking more like a shawl and revealing both his lack of a shirt and probably too much chest hair. "Never came up in conversation."

Hanzo let a puff of air out through his nose, breaking his gaze for several reasons. "You should have stopped me."

"I mean, I shoulda, but this also answers a lotta my questions." Elbows meeting his knees, McCree just looked overall _happy_. "Every time you've gone outta your way to drop nice words, I was waitin' for the other shoe to drop on a joke I was missin'. Didn't realize it was genuine interest. Though I'm offended over that alcohol thing, I mean sake is fine but Jim Beam is a classic."

Hanzo let out a noise of disgust at the defense of the drink, but at the same time seemed to stiffen at the accusation. "I did not aim for being disingenuine." 

"It wasn't you that made me think that, sugarplum," Jesse soothed, lifting his metal hand as if to physically push the thought away. "Let's chalk it up to experience at best. Don't have people that look that they were carved by the hand'a God often find me to be their type." Hanzo opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he saw McCree moving. Pushing himself to stand with a groan, McCree took the three steps required to get to the couch, flopping down next to the archer on the opposite end. "Didn't realize we had the same 'nursin' a hangover' spot."

"My bed is too stiff to be comfortable at the moment," Hanzo explained, but he was more focused on the fact of Jesse moving _closer_. "Jesse."

"Mmmhm."

"I am not a fan of suspense."

"… What?" Turning his head to look sideways at him, McCree finally seemed to understand that right, he'd never actually confronted Hanzo's feelings. 

When he started laughing, the archer bristled harsher than a cat thrown into a dog fight. "I can understand how _amusing_ you must find this, but I will take my leave-" 

His spit out words ceased when a metal hand met his knee, stilling him. McCree lifted his other to wipe at his eyes, his chuckle deep in his throat and relentless even in his attempts to stop it. "I just can't believe you don't think it's already mutual."

"…. Explain."

"You make fuckin' puns on missions. Puns. The most serious person I've ever met in my goddamn life, and you make puns about people 'fallin' like confetti' during a parade heist. That was when I decided you weren't half bad. But after seein' what a good shot you were, and seein' you deal with Hana asking to braid your hair as an experiment-" Hanzo went pale in the face over it, seeing as he didn't realize Lucio had sent a video of it to the whole command, "And seein' that you ordered Genji's favorite tea from my damn data pad the week after you got here, I couldn't help but get a little infatuated. I assumed you had different tastes, so I never said a peep, since you've become a good friend and that'd cause a rift."

Both of them lapsed into silence, seeming to be absorbing the situation. 

It was Hanzo who broke it. 

"…. Jim Beam is disgusting."

"Goddamn it Han, what does that-"

"So when I take you to dinner, you are not allowed to have it near our meal." Looking sideways at him, Hanzo watched Jesse pause, and saw his mouth curl back up. 

"You got yourself a deal."

**Author's Note:**

> ((Thanks for reading!!


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